


Play Date

by MarigoldWatson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Married Life, Married Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Stydia, adventures in babysitting, gone horribly wrong, shameless story with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4547553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldWatson/pseuds/MarigoldWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a prompt I'd received from Stydia Fanfiction on tumblr:</p><p>Prompt: Scotts son stays the night at Stiles and Lydia’s house while Scott and Allison (or Scott and Kira I don’t care which) go out of town. Stydia wait until their nephew is asleep (or so they think) to have some sexy time but Stiles forgets to lock the door and they get caught. Lydia is mortified and makes Stiles go handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Date

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first time EVER attempting to write anything Stydia based. Please be gentle with me if this isn't very good. I accepted 3 prompts that I submitted to the General and figured I might share them here, as well. To see what you guys think. I hope you like it!!!

When Scott and Allison had dropped Michael off it had taken Allison a while to finally leave. Well, not willfully. Scott had practically had to drag her out.

     “Allison!” Scott had laughed, “He’s gonna be fine!”

     “You do this every time mom,” grumbled the little six year old.

Dark eyes scowling as he hugged his small back against Stiles who had placed his hands on the young boy’s shoulders.

     “Hey,” Allison whined. A look of hurt disbelief on her pouting face. “I do not.”

     “Yeah, actually you do”

Allison glared at Stiles who raised a hand up from Michael’s shoulders in mock surrender.

     “I’m allowed to worry about my child.”

     “Allison. How many times have we watched Michael?” Lydia asked.

Her presence in finally coming to his aid allowed a breath Stiles didn’t realize he was holding to escape from between his lips. Lydia’s strawberry blonde hair was styled in a loose French braid wearing a powder blue dress that she knew was his favorite. She moved to stand next to him as her arms crossed against her chest an eyebrow raised in question.

Allison jumped nervously on her heels for a split second, her eyes darting down, as she fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. Her reply came quiet; speaking at her fingers than the couple in front of her.

     “Since he was six months old.”

     “And in all that time he’s been okay. Nothing major has happened. No broken bones or anything needing stitches-“

     “He did a busted lip and a missing tooth!” Allison blurted.

Interrupting Lydia to give a pointed glare in Stiles direction. Stiles mouth gaped open as he directed a scoff at Allison and her accusation. He fidgeted a little under that momma bear glare as his fingers drummed absentmindedly on his nephew’s shoulders.

     “That was an accident!”

Stiles voice was high-pitched causing both Lydia and Scott to try and stifle the smiles that were threatening to spread across their faces. Scott simply scratched the back of his neck and he continued to watch the exchange with his wife and best friend. While Lydia actively had to curl her top lip in and bite it to keep the smile from spreading on her lips.

Stiles caught the act from the corner of his eye. He gave Lydia his full attention as he shot her an exasperated glare in her direction causing the smile to blossom widely on her face.

The accident in question was indeed, an accident. Stiles had taken Michael out to the backyard to do their usual activity of playing catch. Stiles had been talking and doing all things baseball with the boy since he was a year old and Stiles had deemed him old enough to be his new baseball buddy.

Stiles and Michael had recently started practicing his swing. Always ending the day with Stiles throwing him slow curve balls to help Michael practice his stance, patience, and along with the proper form for a home run swing. Stiles was determined to make Michael the best player on his t-ball team.

They hadn’t been outside for close to thirty minutes yet. Michael being so ecstatic about the new glove Stiles had bought him that he hadn’t been paying attention. He didn’t notice his uncle had thrown him the ball. Stiles himself noticing the boy’s attention wasn’t on him until the last second.

He’d tried to get Michael’s attention but it was too late. The ball collided violently into Michael’s jaw.

     “OH MY GOD! Lydia!”

Stiles had ditched his own glove, discarding it to the grass, as he sprinted towards his nephew. He was at the boy’s side in three strides and dropping down to his knees as he wrapped his hands around his nephew’s shoulders.

     “Mikey, look at me buddy,” Stiles pleaded as he placed a large hand on the small slanted chin that was the spitting image of his best friends.

At this point Lydia had come running across the yard from the back door of the kitchen; stopping just in time for Michael to drop his hand away. Lydia made an audible gasp as Stiles inwardly chastised himself. Michael, however, was smiling. A bloody, messy smile.

A slick palm outstretched in between them both with a single white tooth that sat stark and bright in the middle of his palm.

     “Cool!”

     “Allison is going to kill me,” Stiles groaned.

Both he and Lydia noticing the added busted lip once Lydia had cleaned off the flaked and crusted blood. Sure enough, when Scott and Allison had arrived later the next morning, when the gangrene bruise had blossomed and set around the left side of his mouth, swollen, Allison had instantly looked at Stiles.

Michael didn’t seem to notice or care at the time as he excitedly told his dad about his visit from the tooth fairy. She’d apparently left a generous twenty dollars for his first tooth.

     “Can we knock another one out dad?!”

Michael literally jumped he was so overwhelmed with excitement.

     “Absolutely not,” Allison’s curt reply chimed in before Scott could even answer.

She slapped Stiles on the side of his arm. A look of shock on his face as he raised his shoulder defensively.

     “Ow! She’s the one who put the twenty,” Stiles whispered fiercely as he pointed an accusing finger at Lydia.

Lydia’s eyebrows raised her tongue rolling around her gums as she fought not to smile at her husband’s nervous jittery dance under Allison’s seething glare. Instead, she opted to slap him in the same shoulder Allison had. Lydia had been awarded with a look from her _dear_ husband. An exasperated look that deepened the creases in his brow as he glared playfully down at her.

     “Stiles don’t pin that on me.”

     “You couldn’t just take one for Team Stilinski could you, babe.”

     “What? And miss watching you squirm? It’s so much funnier this way.”

Stiles had tried to be offended but Lydia had said it so lovingly it was his turn to try and hide his smile.

Michael was busy telling his father about how he lost his tooth and going over his options on what he was allowed to buy with his new found twenty bucks. Lydia pulled out a plastic bag from the pocket of her high-waist denim jeans and handed it discreetly too Allison. Lydia paid close attention to the way her best friend read the black letters. Lydia’s calligraphy decorating the bag with the words:

“ _Mikey’s First Tooth.”_

Lydia found herself in almost the same exact spot now as her, Stiles, and Michael tried to usher his parents out the front door.

     “Allison just go!”

     “Allison, sweetie, we’re going to end up missing our flight,” Scott reminded her gently.

Scott looked like he was practically dragging her.

     “Have him call me every night before he goes to bed,” Allison requested her voice heavy with sadness and worry.

Lydia immediately obliged. Nodding her head vigorously to comply with her best friend’s request. Lydia knew how much of a Michael child Michael really was to the couple. They’d lost their first child early on in during their first pregnancy. So when Michael had been born Allison had become instantly attached and just as quickly overprotective.

     “I promised you I would,” Lydia reminded her.

     “And NO baseball!” Allison barked the order completely dismissing the crestfallen looks of both boys.

     “Ah mom!”

     “Allison come on!”

Their voices chimed in together in unison. Determined to let Allison know how unfair they thought this new punishment was. Allison yelled something back from across the lawn; whatever it was neither Stiles nor Lydia heard it. Scott was too busy opening her door and trying to shove her into the passenger’s side as gentle as he could. Lydia found herself smiling as Stiles wrapped an arm securely around her waist and pulled her in close. She placed her hand on her nephew’s shoulders as all three of them waved with their free hands as Scott started to pull out of the driveway.

Allison took that time to roll down the passenger side window to shout, “NO BASEBALL!” one last time before they drove out of sight.

xxxxxxxx

In her attempt to comply with her best friend’s wishes, Lydia had talked the boys into going for a bike ride around the block. It had taken a lot of convincing actually. Both boys trying to swoon her over with matching puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. Both of them knew she was a sucker for it but Lydia (somehow) stood her ground and she was beyond amazed at her sudden resolve.

It had even astonished her husband, which made it even more enjoyable.

While she’d ended up actually riding on her beach cruiser Stiles had gotten her for Christmas last year, Stiles had opted for his older than dirt (about as old as his Jeep, Roscoe) skateboard. They’d strapped Michael in to his helmet, elbow, and knee pads before he got on a smaller version of a bike that looked just like Lydia’s.

The three of them made a couple laps around the neighborhood. Michael wanting to show Lydia and Stiles that he learned a couple new tricks from his father. They gave calls of encouragement when he showed them the “no hands” trick. When he asked his Aunt Lydia if she could do it, she pretended she could not. So Michael talked her through it, his little voice stammering wildly through directions, until they were both taking turns removing their hands from their handle bars.

When they got back home Lydia had asked to see Stiles skateboard; taking it to the top of the driveway’s ramp before sitting down on it (as ladylike as she possibly could in her summer dress) the momentum carrying her at a decent speed down the small hill. Lydia could hear Michael giggling next to Stiles as he watched her and when she asked Michael if he wanted to join her the little boy didn’t hesitate.

Stiles watched the whole exchange with mild amusement. His wife trying to sit as ladylike as possible every time she sat on the board, her arms wrapped protectively around Michael, as they careened at a steady pace down the driveway.

     “Tuck your legs in!” Lydia’s voice rang out high pitched and light with laughter. “Mikey! Tuck your legs in!”

For a second Stiles thought he would have to get up from his little nest he’d made on the side of their lawn as they wobbled dangerously for a split second. But Lydia steadied them out; their laughter carrying over to him and making a wide smile spread across his lips.

Stiles loved watching Lydia with Mikey and, if he was to be honest, it made him want to bring up the baby conversation they’d had a few months back. He couldn’t imagine how his life could get any sweeter, but at the thought of having little Stilinski’s running around, a son or daughter of his own, Stiles knew that was possibly the sweetest.

He’d brought the idea up to Lyds not too long after the thought had crossed his mind. Well, actually he’d blurted it out right then and there as they’d been brushing their teeth that morning. To say she was surprised was an understatement as she choked on some of the toothpaste she’d seemed to have inhaled. After the initial shock wore off, Lydia had realized he was serious. That’s when he’d learned she’d been thinking about it too, but, she was terrified that whatever supernatural blood ran through her would carry into their child. Lydia didn’t know if she could ever forgive herself if she cursed their daughter with the same…gift that she had received.

To say the conversation had left him a little heartbroken at the idea of them never having a child of their own was an understatement. But Stiles hoped beyond hope that maybe one day soon Lyds would change her mind.

A feminine voice cleared their throat jolting Stiles out of his manic thoughts. He looked up from his sitting position to see his wife, gorgeous as ever, standing in front of him with her arm loosely around Mikey’s shoulders. They both looked at him expectantly, as if they’d asked him a question he hadn’t heard. That was probably the case.

     “Did you hear me?”

     “Hmm? No. Sorry,” he replied sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck.

     “We decided dinner will consist of chicken strips and curly fries and that we’re both starving. So, it’s time for dinner.”

As if right on queue at the sound of food Stiles stomach growled (especially at the mention of his two favorite starchy foods). Lydia’s eyebrow quirked up, a delicate smirk creasing the soft lines of her face, as she reached out her free hand to help him up.

      “Looks like we called dinner right on time, Mikey. Uncle Stiles stomach is already starting to talk.”

Michael’s childish laughter chimed in around them as he rubbed his own belly absentmindedly.

      “Don’t worry Uncle Stiles! Mines talking too! They can talk together!”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile down at the kid as he ruffled the curly dark locks that made him look more like Scott than Allison since they hadn’t cut his hair.

     “Sounds good to me, bud.”

Stiles grabbed to take the skateboard from his wife’s hand placing his free hand low on her back as he guided her towards the front door. When emerald eyes and ruby lips smiled up at him Stiles felt happiness curl in his stomach. His lips moving involuntarily down to place a soft chaste kiss on her lips.

     “Eck! Gross Uncle Stiles!”

The smile broke out on their faces while their lips were still connected and stayed there when they parted.

     “What’s wrong with my kissing your aunt?” he inquired an eyebrow cocked in amusement.

     “She’s a girl! Girls give you cooties and diarrhea.”

     “What?” Lydia chuckled out in a gasp, mortified.

     “Yeah. Thomas said a girl kissed him on his cheek and he got sent home after cause she got him sick!”    

     “He probably had the flu,” Stiles tried to reason.

     “Na huh Uncles Stiles! The girl did it! I _never_ want to get kissed by a girl.”

     “Give it a few years, bud. That’ll change.

     “Na huh!”

Michael shook his head vigorously as they stepped inside the house. He followed Lydia into the kitchen while Stiles closed and locked the front door, placing the skateboard down in the corner. As he followed close behind, a smirk raising the corners of his cupid bow lips, he remembered how he felt the same way when he was his nephew’s age. All that changed in the third grade when he was seated next to a certain strawberry blonde; gummy worms sticking out from her dress pockets.

xxxxxxxx

Dinner had gone by quickly. Michael had helped them prepare dinner; lining the chicken nuggets on the pain with Stiles as Lydia poured the grease into the fryer for the fries. It didn’t take long for everything to cook when they found themselves at the dinner table laughing along to Michael telling them excitedly about a school and being the kickball king at recess. The not good way his mother had reacted to Scott and him coming home with a new pet rat (Lydia didn’t think she would’ve handled it any better).

Lydia had taken him up to get ready to bed shortly after having him make a brief phone call to Allison before bed. Just like she had promised. To pass the time he gathered up the dishes and took them to the sink. It's where she had found Stiles, forearms deep in soapy water, when she rejoined him in the kitchen.

The sight wasn’t something that Lydia wasn’t used to seeing. They’d been married for almost two years now and dated for three. She herself was awful at it, always missing some kind of stain, so Stiles had resigned her to dish dryer. Which, Lydia was perfectly fine with.

She moved up beside him and hoped up on the counter picking up the dish rag he had laid out just for her.

     “Finely decided to join me, I see,” he quipped playfully flicking soapy suds in her direction. She gently hit him with the rag earning a chuckle in his response. “Mikey asleep?”

     “Yup,” she replied popping the P. “Crashed the minute his head touched the pillow.”

  Stiles only reply was a small nod his concentration strictly for the task at hand. He started to hand her plates as he cleaned and Lydia aimlessly dried them. Her eyes stuck on her husband, her dorky, sporadic, fidgety, good-hearted, and damn fine kisser: husband. Lydia’s eyes traced the curve of his jaw and the way his brow knitted together in light concentration as he cleaned. The moles that dotted along his cheek (her favorite being the one close to his lips that she always kissed just because) all the way to the arrow shape of his nose.

For a moment she wondered if their child would have the same delicate placement of moles. If they’d be hyper like him or stoic and put together like her. If they’d get so excited their words would jumble together as their excitement picked up speed or instead they’d be more reserved and confident.

Lydia felt her chest constrict at the thought of having a little boy just like him all excitement and long limbs. Or a Lydia girl with the same pouty lips and bright honey eyes she’d use to wrap Stiles around her little finger. Lydia knew this is something she wanted but was always too afraid to voice it. Too afraid of what her families history would do. The last thing she wanted was to cause their son or daughter any turmoil. What terrified her the most was the wondering on if she would even be a good mother. There was no doubt in her mind that Stiles would be the perfect father. Watching him with Michael had already proved that time and time again.

     “Hey Lyds you okay?”

She hadn’t realized her thoughts had run away with her as Stiles looked at her cautiously the worry replacing the concentration from his brow.

Lydia cleared her throat and gave him a reassuring half smile as she took the plate from him and began to dry it.

     “I’m fine: hey Stiles, do you remember that thing we talked about a while back?”

Stiles shot her a side glance. Answering her as he pulled the stopper from the sink to release the water.

     “What thing exactly? I mean there has been a lot of things.”

She shot him an annoyed look and Stiles bit his lip to keep from smiling. Never getting tired of the fact that Lydia believed that he should just be able to read her mind and just _know_. Lydia glanced down nervously as he gave her his direct attention. One hand resting against the edge of the sink, the other loosely on his hip.

     “You _know_ ,” she started voice soft. “The one about us trying for a baby.”

Stiles perked up noticeably his face becoming unreadable.

     “Yeah?”

     “I was thinking-maybe-we could-“

     “Lydia Stilinski are you trying to say you want a baby with me?” he teased.

It was stupid really. She shouldn’t have been blushing but she did and she was. The heat rising up from her neck until it burned her cheeks and she shot him an exasperated glare as he closed the space between them.

     “Not if you keep acting like that then no I don’t.”

Stiles was unfazed as his still wet hands touched the edges of her knees and steadily moved them apart so his hips could rest between her thighs. A hand moved up to cup the side of her face; a wet thumb dancing along the edges of her bottom lip. The playful smirk he had worn a mere second ago vanished as his eyes attentively searched her face.

     “Lydia. Do you want to have a baby?”

His hand was still tenderly cupping the side of her face, keeping her from looking away from him. His free hand making delicate circles on her knee as if that alone could coax an answer from her. Stiles knew she was scared. Previous discussions had tuned him in to that enough but what he saw in her eyes now was different. Usually, if Lydia didn’t want something or disagreed she shut down the conversation before it even really began. This time she remained quiet. Biting her lip before curling in it all together her eyes bright and observant as he took her all in.

     “Yes,” she finally croaked.

Her voice had been barely over a whisper but Stiles heard it as if she had yelled it. The happiness he felt curl lazy in his stomach suddenly expanded out into his veins; his fingertips tingling with the sensation.

     “Really?”

He laughed out the word and stopped as the sudden prick of tears stung behind his eyes. Lydia gave him a shy smile, her lips barely tugging upwards, as she rested her hand on his wrist.

     “Want to start now?”

Lydia’s eyes searched his as she waited for a response and the one she received wasn’t what she had been expecting. Stiles lips suddenly crashed down on to hers his hand that had rested gently on her cheek sliding back to clasp around her neck. His fingers sinking in to her hair as Lydia slid her own fingers into the crazy chocolate locks of his.

The kiss varied from sweet, a brush of lips; gaining intensity as he pushed her back against the cabinets. His teeth bit gently along her lower lip asking for her to silently give him access. Lydia complied instantly and sighed as the kiss intensified further. His hand that had been innocently tracing circles in her skin moved slowly up her thigh. Nails touching down on her skin lightly until the slide up and between the lace strap of her panties.

The sensation of his nails delicately in her thigh, fingers twisting in her panties, caused a gasp to pass from her lips. The moment she disconnected their lips stills used the hand in her hair to arch her neck up so he could get a good angle of the spot Lydia loved so much. The elusive spot just under her ear that when his lips met sent her nails digging into his back.

Another gasp tore from her lips as Stiles kept her perfectly arched. He sucked, licked, and nibbled on her neck. Trailing painstakingly slow until he left a red hot trail down to her collarbone. He disconnected his fingers from her hair so he could use both hands to pull her underwear down her legs. Stiles stepped back from her for just a moment to stuff the delicate lace in his pocket before he stepped back into the empty space he’d made between them.

Their lips instantly connected back together, hungrier this time as Lydia wove her fingers underneath the collar of his flannel shirt. A frustrated groan reverberated deep in her chest as she struggled to remove him of the stupid thing. Stiles smiled against their lips as he moved to swiftly take the flannel off, letting it fall to the floor.

A hand crept up her leg tracing lines up to her inner thigh. Playing a long the delicate skin until his thumb brushed between her slick folds.

     “God, you’re so wet, Lyds,” he groaned against her lips.

Lydia would have responded but the thought was torn from her when he placed a calloused thumb against her clit. Her lips tore away from his as a moan racked up her throat but Stiles quickly swallowed it down as he claimed her swollen lips once more.

     “Gotta be quiet.”

Lydia’s response back was nonexistent. All she could focus on was the small tight circles that were sending jolts of pleasure up her spine. Her hands fumbling as they reached under the stark whiteness of his shirt to drag her nails across his skin. She earned a hiss that made her feel victorious, if only for a moment.

She bucked against him as he slid a finger inside of her followed shortly by another. Her muscle clenching tight against them as he began a rhythm to match the circles he continued to make. Lydia fought to wrestle her mouth from him as she moaned wildly against him. Mewling, (god help her) even when she realized it was no use.

Stiles fingers moved in and out of her meticulously until her back was arched uncomfortably against cabinets and spice racks. Her fingers were locked tightly into his shirt, her panting breathes picking up speed, as her hips worked along to the rhythm he’d created. Stiles released her lips  but put a quick finger there, reminding her to keep quiet.

Lydia had her back arched so perfectly that it left her breasts exposed wonderful to him. There was nothing more that Stiles wanted than to see those rosy pink buds tight and flushed between his fingers. His cock twitched in the tight confines of his jeans as he continued to imagine her bear before him as he lowered his mouth to the soft fabric of her dress. His free hand squeezing and stroking against the fabric until the pointed bud showed itself. Stiles gave a silent prayer of thanks and his wet mouth took in the fabric protected nipple. He teased it gently with his teeth and sucked a little harder than usual just to hear a moan catch violently in Lydia’s throat.

He smirked at his handy work as her hands fisted tighter in his shirt. She was so wet beneath his fingers and suddenly all he could think about was tasting her. When he pulled back from her the sob that escaped Lydia from his absence made Stiles greedily madly. He didn’t leave her disappointed for long as he hiked her dress up to rest around her stomach, exposing the rosy pink bud of her clit. He spread her legs a little wider, his eyes fixing up to watch her, as his mouth dropped down to suckle on the sensitive clit.

Lydia had to bit her lip hard to keep his name from shouting out from her lips. Her fingers digging into his hair as she watched his mouth work her over. Stiles was watching her too. The way her body shivered as his tongue took languid strokes up until it flicked at her swollen bud. His tongue entering her to get a sweeter taste of her. He loved the way her eyes fluttered shut with a curse and his name spilling like a whimpering mess from her lips.

Stiles could tell she was close and not just from the rapidly increasing intake of breathes she was taking. Her muscles tightened around his fingers as he made the perfect arch, giving him a second to find that spot that made her legs shake and her body to spasm wildly. Stiles knew he found it as he slid his experienced fingers in and out his tongue flicking and sucking over her bud. Suddenly, Lydia’s hands tightened in his hair, her legs that had been rested on his shoulders trembled, as she muffled her own cries of release with her own hand.

Stiles road out her orgasm; licking up every bit of her that he could taste as he watched his glazed eyes begin to register the world around her once more.

He stood up from his position and went to run a hand over his mouth when Lydia shook her head. Unable to form words at the moment she grabbed a hold of his shirt and used it to drag him towards her. Her lips found his and she kissed and licked the taste of her from his mouth.  Lydia reached down between them and felt the hardness of his cock pressed painfully against the fabric of his jeans. She did a light squeeze that made him whimper against her.

     “Take me upstairs,” she panted. “I need-I need you inside me-“

Stiles didn’t need her to ask him twice and he wasn’t in the mood to have her beg. He scooped her bare ass off of the kitchen counter and headed towards the stairs. He made quick work of them, literally taking them two at a time, and soon Lydia found her back falling onto the soft bounce of their mattress.

They undressed quickly stealing kisses in between. As Stiles moved between her legs, his tip pressing at her entrance, Lydia placed a hand to his chest just to ask, “You locked the door, right?”

Stiles almost had to shake his head. Lydia’s words hitting him like baby gibberish as his mind tried to work around the fog of arousal that had clouded his mind.

     “Yeah, yeah.”

     “Are you sure-“

Lydia moaned around her words as Stiles slid inside of her. Her pussy spreading to accommodate his length. Her muscles still tight from the orgasm she’d had just a few moments ago. Stiles cursed into the crevice of her neck; his hands running down a long her thigh as he scooped it up to place it on his shoulder. Knowing the angle would allow him to go deeper and make Lydia repeat his name in different moans and shouts.

     “Uncle Stiles what are you doing to Auntie Lydia?”

The couple both froze as a horrified look crossed Lydia’s face.

     “Oh my fucking god! Stiles Stilinski! You told me you locked the door!” she spat heatedly.

The words a muffled mess as she spoke them through her hands. Stiles eyes stayed looking down at his now beet red wife as he answered the little man, “She ugh, had a cramp in her leg and I was just trying to help her.”

     “That’s not what it looked like-“

If it was even possible, Lydia’s eyes widened in pure horror as she covered her face with her hands.

     “Oh my god we’re never having kids!”

Lydia reached hurriedly for the bed sheets to try and cover her exposed chest as Stiles slide out of her. His hands searching around aimlessly for his boxers.

     “Don’t say that Lyds. He probably didn’t see anything-“

     “I saw Aunt Lydia’s boo-“

Before he could even finish Stiles cut him off, his eyes closed, and his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose: “Not really being helpful here Mikey.”

When he opened his eyes Lydia had her back against the headboard, a sheet wrapped securely around her. She was biting her nails furiously to the point it made Stiles wince in pain. Her panic filled eyes finally looked over at him as he slipped on his boxers and then over to the little boy standing in their doorway.

     “What are you still doing here?! Go put him back to bed!”

Stiles ran to kiss her suddenly on the lips; taking a step back towards their nephew as he pointed at her and said, “This isn’t over!”

     “Just go Stiles!”

She watched as Stiles moved up behind Michael placing protective hands on his shoulders as he lead him back down the hall.

     “Wanna tell me what happened buddy?”

     “I had a nightmare and-“

Their voices faded away from the bedroom and Lydia finally allowed herself to fall back into the mattress. She was mortified beyond belief as she started blankly up at the ceiling. While Michael didn’t get hit in the face with another baseball he had stumbled across something so much worse, in Lydia’s opinion.

Allison was never going to let Michael stay the night with them ever again at this rate.


End file.
